


Mala suledin nadas

by dark_night



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: And probably more pain, Bittersweet, F/M, Pain, Possibly a happy ending, Post-Trespasser, Regret, maybe...
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-05-25 19:25:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6207454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dark_night/pseuds/dark_night
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Final moments between Lavellan and Solas, two years after their meting in Trespasser.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I never wrote anything in my life that wasn't mandatory...  
> And I had to work up my courage to post this small thing here. 
> 
> Also english is not my native language so be gentle, please.

 

So this is where her world succumbs. And his rises. She supposes it’s only fitting. Skyhold was his once after all.

_Tarasyl’an Te’las_ … The place where the sky was held… The place where the veil was created…

Solas had successfully weakened the veil throughout Thedas, avoiding Skyhold. Delaying the inevitable… Her attempts to stray him from his destructive path had failed at every turn and now the last defense of her world was finally breaking.

The countdown to doom had made her a bitter person. She barely recognized herself. The inability to alter his path made her despair and, with despair, rage come. Soon, she became a flooded well of regret and misery. She would kill him if he pushed her that far. She had failed her friends, only ashes now, but she wouldn’t fail the world. She would stop him, kill him or at least she would die trying.

She was fighting at the top of the stairs that lead to the main hall of Skyhold, when she saw him. Full armor, wolf pelt by the shoulder, chin up and hands clasped behind his back, as he crossed the breeched gate.To the untrained eyes he walked like he was clinically assessing the battle field, but she knew better.

He had come to her in the fade the last nights of his siege. Not as a wolf, but as himself for the first time in years. He had begged her to leave Skyhold. Begged her to leave and flee to the old Heaven ruins. She had refused his plea.

She never looked at him during those fade dreams, always faced him with her backs turned to him, afraid that he would break her resolve. Afraid that all her anger and regret would be forgotten and she would forget all the deaths of her friends. No! She would stand her ground!

And now, as he walked the courtyard, he was searching for her. Hoping that she had fled the fortress before their attack had started.

For the last couple of hours, she had been fighting every elf and sentinel that tried to reach the main hall using her specialization to pull all the energy she could from the fade to empower her rifts spells, trying to stretch her mana for a longer period. Casting Veilstrike, Stonefist and Ice Mine. Then Pull of the Abyss, Ice Mine and immolate. And repeat…and repeat… But, in the stairwell, without the room to cast Fade step and regenerate some of her mana, her casting power got more and more depleted.

Now, with so many sentinels and elves attacking at the same time, all her casting was resumed to simple basic attacks from her staff in a desperate attempt to buy time for a more powerful one that could give her a small advantage and keep them from beaching her defense.

All it took was a brief pause on her casting, as she watched him walk the main courtyard. A small second in which her heart missed a beat and everything around her seemed to blur in the edges except for him.

That’s when she realized that she had failed her world too!

It came from the back…An arm grabbed her around her collarbone as the other forcefully pierced through her ribs from behind.

In that split second that had undone her, it seemed as though time had slowed almost to a stop and every movement around her was now performed in a very slow motion, as she felt the dagger blade drill deeper and deeper in her flesh severing every inch of her organs at its pass.

The loud cry that left her throat, in what looked like a never ending moment, ripped through the sounds of the battle beneath her and through the courtyard.

That’s when he saw her!

As realization hit him, the sentinel turned to stone with a flinch of his eyes. His stance fell as he run...

She watches him speed towards her. His face twisted by an imminent and inescapable death.

Hers.

It’s strange. She knows that she won’t last much longer, but all she can feel now is a comforting sense of peace. She’s finally going to join her friends. And that almost brings a weak smile to her lips, almost… If it wasn’t for the wrenched pain in Solas eyes as he approaches.

For all the fighting, for all the deaths, for all the darkness he bestowed upon her in the past couple of years, her heart still finds strength to care for him, to love him. It’s a surprise for her. She had thought it lost in all the rage and despair cultivated throughout the years, when hope went finally silent in her heart.

Or maybe is the fact that she is undeniably dying.

But she is happy, in some sense, nonetheless. Again, it’s surprisingly. To be able to see him one last time, maybe even touch his cheeks, warms her. To be able to say her peace and lay her head, knowing that after all her heart was not dead, but waiting for its time to sing. It’s comforting.

Maybe, when nothing else matters, when all failures add together and there is no more time to make new ones, everything else just seems irrelevant in the end, to everyone.

She watches mindfully as he kneels next to her.

He carefully pulls her upper body on top of his knees. Her head supported by is right arm, as he presses her to his body, cradling her, in an attempt to hold her with him somehow. His face is washed by fear and regret, and the impending inability to save her.

She smiles slightly. Feeling his body close to her again is soothing.

“ _'Ma sa’lath_ … Don’t be sad… Don’t-…Don’t worry…I’m-…I’m not afraid…I-…”.

Her body writhes from the sudden pain in her lungs and Solas face twitches. He grips her tighter. Tears start to run down his cheeks and a sob escapes his lips.

“No, no, no… _Ir abelas, vhen'an_ … Please, pleeease… Don’t leave me… Not now…”.

She struggles to move, the pain now increasingly acute, but she manages to place her hand on his cheek.

It’s upon her. She can feel it. She can feel as her body starts to shut itself down. But she needs to say it! She needs to! Before she succumbs to the darkness clouding her vision...

“ _Ar lath ma, vhen'an_ …”.

“No, nooo… It was not supposed to happen this way…”.

“I’m… sorry… my love… _mala…suledin…nadas…_ ”

As she freed her last breath, her hand felt lifeless from his cheek. Solas desperately grabbed her against his cheek again, body twitching from his violent sobbing.

And there stood _Fen’Harel_ , the Dread Wolf, kneeled in the stairwells of _Tarasyl’an Te’las_ , with the body of his lifeless lover tightly against his, her hand an eternal caress on his cheek and a hole where his heart once was.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited, because I felt that one of the spirits mentioned below was not really accurate, given the information in some of Solas explanations and in-game codex.

The sun penetrating through the tall trees bathed her golden skin and silver blonde hair, giving her an ethereal beauty. Her hair was loose, cascading softly to her waist, and her simple white laced dress glided softly to the gentle breeze that flow through the trees and small vegetation surrounding them.

She turned to watch him as he approached her. A mischievous smile grew in her lips. Before turning her back to him, she gave him one final peep and started to run, compelling him to chase her. And with a small chuckle, chase he did.

It did not take him long to catch her. But she wasn’t even really trying, now was she?

As his hands grabbed her by the waist, she turned in them, facing him with a loving smile. Her hand reached for his cheek for a brief moment, in a soft caress, and then her lips reached his in a suddenly awaked hunger, like she had been starving for him for too long. He matched her thirst, pulling her tightly against his body, as he intensified their kiss. Needy hands started to wander freely reaching each and every inch of skin they could grasp, and their breaths became panted. Eventually, clothes were tossed aside so that they could finally entwine themselves in the soft grass and completely feed their hunger and sate their thirst for each other.

They stayed silently entangled in themselves for what it seemed forever. Her head resting in his chest as one of his hands gently brushed her hair and the other kept her body tightly against his.

After a while she raised her head from his chest and gazed in to his eyes, a loving expression spread across her face. In response he pulled her closer for a soft kiss. She returned the kiss and, caressing his cheek gently, she spoke.

“It’s time, _'ma sa’lat_.”

“What for, _vhen'an_?” confusion spread across his face.

“It’s late...You need to go…”

“Go where, my-“

His words died in his mouth. His face twitched with a sudden overwhelming fear when he saw her skin slowly starting to peel off through his hands and scatter in the wind like fallen leaves. In the mist of his panic, he tried to hold her tighter in his arms, but only managed to aggravate the horror image developing before his eyes.

As the last pieces of her were blown away, her voice echoed in the wind “ _Ar lath ma, vhen'an_ …”.

He forced himself to wake up!

                                                                                                        *

It’s been like this for months since her death.

During the day, he keeps his mind sane, maintaining his thoughts focused in his reconstruction plans, but when night falls and he rests his head on the pillow, the deafening sensation of her absence overwhelms him and the desperate need to reach for her pushes him to these dreams.

At first they were little constructions of his memories, manipulations to recreate every moment exactly as they occurred, with every detail his mind had kept stored. The intensity of his need for her, the need to see her and to touch her, making him loose himself in them, wishing to stay there and never to wake up again... wishing for dawn never to come again…

But with time, he started to lose some control over them. Maybe it was the work of a spirit of Desire or even Despair, because, although he never found any indication of its presence, he knew he could no longer walk his dreams with the clear mind he once did.

His haunted loud thoughts, of how he failed her, of how he broke her, piece by piece, every time he had turned his back on her and walked away, of how her blood was in his hands, even though he was not the one holding the knife, the memory of her bloodied lifeless body against his, colder and colder and colder as time continued to flow outside the bubble of his despair and grief… Those turbulent thoughts that he could not and would not push out of his mind, because he deserved them all, because he deserved to suffer for eternity for all the wrongs he had done to her, to his _vhen’an’ara_ , because despite all the chaos and pain he had wrought upon her she could still find in her heart the strength to try and change his mind, because… because it was all he had left of her…

And those thoughts… Those shouting thoughts could easily draw the attention of any spirit… And it didn’t even need to be paying attention to him, because his plagued presence was just too loud to be silenced... His pain too loud to be ignored…

He sighed and crawled out of his cold and empty bed, to his even colder and empty life. This was his personal hell, to lose her every time… to see her vanish away…

And he deserved every bit of it…

After he pulled down the veil, he had warded _Tarasyl’an Te’las_ before he left. Not to reclaim it… He could never live there again... Too many memories… No… He had protected it in the selfish hope that maybe… maybe… some part of her energy, of her spirit could one day grow there… He knew it would not be her, it would not share their memories, it would not remember him… And mostly, he knew that it was an almost impossible thing to happen… She was not a spirit, like Wisdom, but… but he was a selfish man… and if something could grow there, just a little part of her, any part of her, he would do anything to protect it…

He had returned there a couple of months after, hoping to find her, hoping to find a spirt or a wisp that could have been shaped by her memories, but nothing lingered. Nothing had grown there… only silence and emptiness…

It crushed him… The small hope that he had been cultivating since he left that place vanished in the cold mountain air… Faced with his undeniable failure, painful memories suddenly pushed their way out of him and he started sobbing… The pain carving a path through him… He curled on himself in that same stairwell where he had lost her, letting tears run freely for the first time since he left…

He did not return to Skyhold…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone that commented and gave kudos! You have motivated me to keep writing.  
> Another chapter coming soon!
> 
>  
> 
> The Elvhen used was taken from Project Elvhen, by FenxShiral:  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/3719848/chapters/8237548
> 
> 'Ma’sa’lath: My one love  
> Vhen'an: Heart  
> Ar lath ma, vhen’an: I love you, my heart  
> Vhen’an’ara: Heart's desire


	3. Chapter 3

 

A knock on the door drove him away from his memories.

 

With a flick of his hand, his clothes were summoned. He took a deep breath, hardening his expression to conceal his internal turmoil and, with his nonchalant mask in place, he told the man to enter.

 

“Solas”

 

“What is it, Abelas?”

 

“A report. From the elves patrolling south Ferelden. They were ambushed by a pocket of resistance in the edges of the Kocari Wilds. Mostly rogues and a couple of mages. What was left of them retreated back to a ruin in the limits of the Hinterlands and reported back. There is also a note left by the resistance… Addressed to you…”

 

“Let me see!”

 

                                                                                                *

_Hinterlands, Ostagar ruins_

_Sir,_

_While patrolling the outskirts of the Kocari Wilds region our unit was ambushed by a resistance group. Covered by the trees and wild vegetation, there is no real certainty as to the size of the group._

_The initial attack came from above. Roughly, probably ten or more archers, we can’t be sure. A shower of arrows swatted us, coated with venom, we realized later this night, as two more of our men perished due to it._

_As our archers went in formation and started firing back, our warriors advanced through the forest limits. A second wave of attack, led mainly by a couple of mages, hit them. Lightning and frost spells mostly, although one of our men swears he saw one of the mages transform into a[bereskarn](http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Bereskarn) and attack a warrior that got too close to their position. _

_There was also at least one assassin rogue assisting the mages on the ground, judging by the wounds of a few of our warriors._

_Without an advantageous fighting position, no cover and outnumbered, the few of us with enough magic skill, cast a barrier over the survivors and retreated to the old city of Ostagar._

_At dawn, our dead count was at fourteen. Also three men severely injured and unable to stand against an attack. At total we have five, counting myself, able to fight. How should we procced?_

_Await instructions._

_Forgive me, I almost forgot!_

_During the retreat, a single arrow was fired to the ground with a folded note addressed to you, sir.  I attached it to the report._

                                                                                                *

 

Solas unfolds the small stained note and his face turns into a grimace. The hand writing is almost childish and barely readable, but he recognizes it. The small paper reads:

 

                                                                                                *

_Fen shite,_

_I will shove your elven glory down your arse for what you did! What, she wasn’t elven enough for your shite world, you freakin’ bastard?_

_Watch your breeches shite face. Bees will be coming to sting ya elven arse one of thes’days._

*

 

Ah… Sera… Of course she survived…

 

Most of the elves had survived the fall of the veil, probably because e _lvhen_ blood still linger in their veins. As most human mages had, given their affinity with the fade, although many of them didn’t last long, due to the lack of comprehension and ability to properly control their magic in a world that no longer restrained it.

 

This knowledge. That fact that the elves had been able to live through his destruction of the veil still plagued his mind. To know that _she_ could have lived to see this world. His world. _Her_ world. The world where _she_ should have been born to, instead of that withering replica he created…

 

He forced himself to focus in the matter at hand.

 

Sera.

 

She had always been a persevering girl during the time with the Inquisition, this shouldn’t come as a surprise for him, yet he had no indication, until now, that she was even alive much less that she was involved in these attacks. And the group… the shapeshifter… He could almost see her disappointed face when _she_ denied her the _Vir’abelasan_ …

 

He will have to take care of the situation personally. He has been overlooking it for far too long.  

 

There had been a few raids to his patrols throughout the last couple of months. Expected, since many elves survived the destruction of the veil and not all were at his ranks. He had not given them much attention at the time, since it seemed they were random attacks and with no greater intention than annoyance. They were mostly carried out by a few rogues and one or two warriors, but never mages, and never with any casualties to both side. In fact, when the situation was originally brought to his attention, he, well, hoped that it would eventually cease with time once people adjusted to this new world and peace would finally be restored.

 

In retrospective, he should have considered Sera’s involvement. She always liked to pester him. The lizards she left in his bedroll comes to mind. Now that he thinks about it more thoroughly, these previous small raids were probably led by the remaining few Jennies scattered across Ferelden as a way of testing his patrol unit’s strengths and weaknesses. And they clearly found what they were searching for, given the report in his hands.

 

This last attack in particular was carefully planned, the patrol movements thoroughly watched for several days, there is no doubt. The ambush location was astutely chosen, giving them enough cover but still allowing clear view of his unit approaching. The mages on the ground gave them the advantage they needed… and the shapeshifter in particular…

 

Most of the elves were not yet comfortable with their magic and their abilities lacked the confidence of those born with it, making them an easy target against born mages, particularly if Morrigan was one of them. She was her mother’s daughter after all.

 

Despite the bloody outcome of Sera’s attack, he is pleased that the report allows him to pinpoint their location and end the matter quickly before it escalates. They have no force to withstand him, but they can still be a thorn in his finger. These small attacks do little damage to his force, but he doesn’t want more bloodshed. He wants peace to rebuild and stabilize the _Elvhenan_ empire and finally enter _uthenera._

 

He will have to leave the _Arlathan_ Forest and return to Ferelden, then…

 

“Abelas, have ten of your sentinels ready by the eluvian in an hour.”

 

“Should I join you?”

 

“No. Proceed with the overseeing of the constructions at hand. I will return in a day or two at the most.”

 

As soon as the door closed, he let his mask fall.

 

He had secluded himself in _Arlathan_ for the last few months partly because he needed to supervise the reconstruction of the capital. Most e _lvhen_ had yet to wake from _uthenera_ and he didn’t trust the few who had to let them in charge completely. For now, Abelas was the only one he felt comfortable to oversee it, but only for brief periods of time, when he needed some time for himself after a particular _difficult_ night. And there was also the fact that the elves and the _elvhen_ were yet adapting to each other, which sometimes created strained situations that required his intervention.

But mostly because he didn’t want to leave the rising city. There was only one other location he would be tempted to go and the last time he did, he returned more broken then he was before.

 

And now, to reach Sera’s group in the Kocari Wilds before their retreat, he would have to go back.

 

He would have to return to Skyhold...

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I hope you like it. 
> 
> Please feel free to leave comments or kudos. They boost my motivation to keep writing :)  
> So, thanks for all the kudos and bookmarks so far. 
> 
> I don't know yet where I wanna go with this, but I guess we'll see.


	4. Chapter 4

As soon as he stepped out of the _eluvian_ he knew something was wrong… Well, not wrong exactly, but strange, different…

 

The air felt saturated, intense. Perhaps a projection of his own emotional vortex that had been escalating during their journey to Skyhold _._ In the last months, he had often contemplated the thought of returning here, but always decided against it, avoiding the possibility of adding another layer of disappointment to his already plagued heart.

 

The trip through the Crossroads had been relatively short, about an hour or so, and quiet, due to his imposed silence. The sentinels accompanying him barely spoke, averting to draw attention, given his evident strained posture throughout the entire journey. Once they reached their destination, he activated the _eluvian_ , erstwhile in Morrigan’s possession, allowing entrance into the small empty room near Skyhold’s garden. The change in the air was so intense that he actually froze in front of the mirror, blocking the passage and almost causing the sentinels following close behind to stumble against him. After realizing his sudden lack of action, he forced himself to focus and led the party out to the garden, instructing them to proceed to the gate where he would join them in a short while.

 

He needed some time alone.

 

As the last sentinel left his sight, he finally let his mask fall and the building suffocating sorrow take over. The garden was in disarray. The weeds had grown almost to his knee’s height and the vines seemed to have invaded the space, strangling most of the trees and stone pillars around.

 

He had often spent his free time reading to _her_ in this same garden. It was one of _her_ favorite places in the keep and soon became one of his as well. Back then, the garden was daily tended, the flowers carefully neutered, the weeds removed on sight and the vines always contained to its rightful space, creating a peaceful and organized atmosphere.

Sometimes, he would find _her_ there, kneeled on the ground, hands and knees covered with dirt, planting small seeds of Crystal Grace, _her_ favorites, and he would sit next to _her_ , kissing _her_ gently on the forehead as he laid on the ground, and read to _her_. Other times, _she_ would search his company in the rotunda and, after a few hours of study, ask, giving him the sweetest smile, if they could continue the session in the garden.

 

Now with no one tending to it, even the small shrine he had erected upon the ground, where he had laid _her_ body to its final rest, was struggling to survive the invading vegetation. The whole image portraying perfectly the anarchy he had wrought upon _her_ world and _herself_.

 

He took a deep breath and finally moved from the spot where he had been paralyzed for last few minutes, walking towards the shrine and kneeling next to it. Carefully, he started to remove the vines clinging to the stone, one by one, abstaining to use magic, only his bare hands, like _she_ used to do when _she_ tended the garden. Entwined in the vines, he spotted a few Crystal Grace flowers still fighting to reclaim their rightful place above _her_ grave and focused his efforts to free them, reminiscing of when, in one of the many afternoons they spent together in the garden, _she_ made him a crown with these same flowers, matching one of _her_ own, and placed it upon his head, playfully proclaiming that only now he was worthy of the title “ _inquisitor’s elven serving man”_. Oh, how she had laughed at the sight of his frowned expression…

 

Immersed in his bittersweet memories, Solas failed to notice that he was no longer alone.

 

“Laughing, bright, warm. Clear blue eyes, like a summer sky, watching, checking, searching for mine. The sweet smell of her hands as she cups my face... And then… burning pain, guilt, sorrow… as she fades away... I can help, Solas!”

 

“You cannot heal this, Cole.” He answers, while adjusting his position to look up at the spirit.

 

“But I can help! You hurt, a new pain, carving, cutting, nipping at you heart… Oh why won’t you let me help you? I can make it easier, softer, sweeter…”

 

“No, Cole! This is not a pain you can heal…”

 

“Soft silver hair, tangled, wild, shimmering under the morning sun crossing the glass doors and bathing her bed… no… our bed… Bright lips, tanned silky skin, warm body against mine... The sweet smell of honey and orange flowers as I bring her closer to me…”

 

“Please, Cole…” Solas begs, trying not to think of _her_ to avoid fueling the spirit’s meddling.

 

“But she--“

 

“Enough!” He all but shouts out to Cole, regretting it almost instantly. He cannot blame Cole for trying to sooth his pain. It’s his nature. He is Compassion, after all. But when it comes to _her_ … Attempting to regain control over himself, Solas takes a deep breath and changes the subject to a less painful topic. “Where have you been? Why didn’t you resume your spirit form now that the veil is destroyed?”

 

“I am still Compassion, but this way I can help more. Some of her people yet linger.” Cole said, pointing to the shrine. “Compassion goes where it’s most needed. This form is easier for them, too.” Adding shortly “And… I’ve been mostly here. But other times not. I go where I need to.”

 

As Solas finally ends tending the shrine, he turns to Cole with a frowning face. “Have you been helping Sera?”

 

“No… She won’t let me. She’s pained, hurt, sorrowful that she let her die. She should have been there... She was her friend. She should have helped her, let her know that she was still alive… I can make it all go away, but she won’t let me.”  Cole replies, his expression now contorted in something akin to despair.

 

“Did you knew she was attacking my patrols? Killing them?”

 

 “She’s angry… burning, raging, furious… She doesn’t like you. You killed her friends.”

 

“She is entitled to her anger, but this has to end! We need peace!” I need peace, he lets unsaid. “There has been too much bloodshed for too long as it is...”

 

“Solas?” Cole asks after a short while, chewing his lips.

 

“Yes, Cole?”

 

The boy shifts slightly on his feet and then turns his back to him, facing the door leading to the main hall. “Before you go… I left… something… for you… in the rotunda.”

 

“And what did- “

 

But before he could finish, the spirit disappeared from his sight, leaving him without an answer.

 

What could Cole have left for him? And of all the places, in the rotunda? He had no wish to go there. The spirit knew this. _She_ was represented in every wall, every fresco he painted while with the Inquisition. The space brought him nothing but misery the last time he ventured there, augmented only by the knowledge that, even after all he had put _her_ through, _she_ had still preserved it, left it untouched, unspoiled. No… Although curious of what Cole could have for him, he would have to wait to find the spirit again and just ask him to give it to him directly. This was already painful as it was… He didn’t want to stir up more old wounds… This was more than enough for today!

 

Giving one last look towards her shrine, he headed for the door.

 

As he stepped inside the main hall, still immersed in his thoughts, something caught his attention. Had not Cole mentioned the rotunda, he would not have peeked towards it and therefore noticed. There was a soft light flickering through the gap between the door and the floor. Very tenuous, but it was there. It was as if someone was walking around the space carrying a small candle.

 

The sudden idea of an intrusion to that specific room, propelled him towards the rotunda. Until he noticed something else. Something odd, strange… The color wasn’t right, was it? Where he was now standing, about two or three steps from the door, the light seemed too white, too bright, far from the typical warm yellow one expects from a burning candle…

Cole did say he had left something for him, so, very likely, this was what he was referring to. Whatever ‘this’ was… Besides, no one could have trespassed his wards without him knowing and none of his sentinels would disregard his orders without a valid justification.

 

Yes, this must be what Cole was talking about.

 

Intrigued, Solas resumed walking and reached for the door knob. It let out a small creak as he began to push it forward. The trapped air inside made its way through the small gap he had opened and he stopped on his tracks, completely frozen. His face paled, as if he didn’t have a drop of blood in his body, and his mind raced through a million things at once.

The smell… The scent coming from inside was… What was Cole playing at? He couldn’t possibly believe this was something Solas would appreciate, could he? What did he expect from this?! Maybe the spirit was spending too much time with Sera…

 

Solas had been in the room in the first and only visit he made to Skyhold after her death and there was nothing in the air but the smell of old books and mold, but now it… And it was so intense… Like… He suddenly started to feel claustrophobic, it was difficult to breathe. His pulse quickened to the point he could hear his own beating heart in his head. And it was too loud! The implications of...

 

Maybe this was a trick of his own mind! Maybe this…

 

Still paralyzed at the door, he tried to steady his mind, just to realize he had stopped breathing at all during his abrupt emotional breakdown. Attempting to relax, he took a deep breath. And, there it was … the sweet scent that had reached his nostrils just moments before… it was still there… This was not something his mind conjured… this was… He could recognize it in the middle of a thousand others fragrances…

 

Opening the door, he walked towards the pure white light lingering near his old desk, hungrily breathing in the sweet perfume of honey and orange flowers in the air…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kudos and comments so far.  
> I'm having trouble writing the next chapter, so I might take a little longer to post it.  
> Any thoughts or ideas are welcome :)


	5. Autor's Note

Hello.

 I've been having some personal problems, so I just wanted to tell everybody who is following this history that I will be posting more chapters, but it might take a little longer.

 I'm gonna try to post a chapter next week, but it has been hard to find inspiration with all the crap going on in my life right now. So, if you like the story, just bear with me. I will update it as soon as I'm capable.

Thanks

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Hi again.

As you've read above, I was suppose to post a chapter last week. Of course that didn't happened, as you can see.

I'm trying to sort things out in my life, but it isn't going so well. So, I don't know when I will post a new chapter, only that I will post it as soon as I can. If you liked the story so far, please, stick around.

Thank you all for the kudos and comments left.

 

 

 


End file.
